


Artist

by Nylocke



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, rating is for chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nylocke/pseuds/Nylocke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khadgar wasn’t shy about his drawings, especially around Lothar...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sketches

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much to Eriakit for beta reading this! You guys in the Liontrust fandom have been nothing but good to me.

It was no secret that Khadgar was a good artist. His notebooks were full of detailed diagrams and delicate sketches. From herbs with magical properties to intriguing animals from all over Azeroth; Khadgar had sketched it all. There was something inherently elegant about his quick quill-strokes, and even his messiest sketches had a simple beauty to them. His apartment was littered with sketches and notes--some were strung up along the wall, organized for research purposes, while others lay scattered about his room, cluttering his desk and floor. To Khadgar, it gave his room a certain feeling of home, a certain charm. To Lothar, half of the charm came from Khadgar himself; the bright look in his big, brown eyes as he concentrated, the way he absentmindedly bit at his lower lip as he worked. There was an intrinsic relaxation in the way Khadgar drew, and Lothar would sometimes visit Khadgar’s quarters when he knew the mage was working just to unwind, the rhythmic scratching of quill on parchment the only sound to fill the comfortable silence between them. 

Khadgar always carried spare parchment just to draw. If he got an idea for a sketch in his head or saw something that he wanted to draw, he wouldn’t be able to focus on much else until he had at least started laying down some linework. Lothar could see it when inspiration struck the boy; his eyes would light up for a brief moment before he reached for his bag, causing Lothar to smile to himself knowingly. It didn’t matter where they were; council meetings, camp, the barracks. Even when King Llane invited him and Lothar for tea, Khadgar had whipped out his parchment and quill. The two older friends had exchanged a knowing glance across the table. Llane had raised an eyebrow and winked at his friend then, and even though Lothar wasn’t entirely sure why, he made sure to aim a kick at him under the table.

Khadgar wasn’t shy about his drawings, especially around Lothar. With the amount of time that Lothar spent in his room looking at his sketches and diagrams, there was absolutely no reason for Khadgar to be shy. Most of the time, when Lothar approached the mage while he drew, Khadgar would seize the opportunity to teach Lothar about whatever in particular he was drawing--not that Lothar minded listening. The boy’s sharp mind and ample enthusiasm captivated Lothar, and he found himself endeared with the mage’s passion for knowledge. 

The first time Khadgar had hidden a sketch, Lothar was shocked. They had been sitting next to each other in a council meeting, and Lothar could hear Khadgar’s quill scratching parchment in strokes that were too long to be his usual sloppy notes. Lothar turned his head to see what Khadgar was drawing, but Khadgar must have seen the movement, and he flipped the parchment up so his sketch was hidden against his stomach. Lothar raised an eyebrow at him, a silent question, but Khadgar wouldn’t meet his gaze, suddenly very interested in the night elf ambassador that had been speaking. Lothar could have sworn there was a hint of blush coloring his cheeks. After that, Khadgar began to hide his sketches with increasing frequency. 

At first, Lothar wasn’t sure how to react, but as time went on and Khadgar hid more from him, he became determined to figure out what the hell was going on. 

He had been in the training grounds with some new recruits, drilling them on parrying techniques. It was stiflingly hot out, so Lothar had granted them the mercy of training without heavy armor. His linen shirt clung to his chest as sweat poured off of him. He had asked the boys to gather in the center of the training grounds to teach them a new technique. When he had asked for a volunteer, none of them seemed to be entirely willing; chances were they had heard how fiercely the Lion of Azeroth could fight. He gestured to one of them at random, who reluctantly stepped forward. The boy spun his practice sword in his hand absentmindedly, licked his lips nervously, and moved to face his commander. 

“This,” he began, his voice raised for all to hear, “is how you disarm an opponent without a weapon.” The recruit moved to put his sword down, but Lothar raised a hand to stop him. 

Sweat dripped from his brow, and he wiped it lazily with the back of his hand. He glanced at the large clock face on the tower above, confirming the time. He threw his shoulders back a bit, stretching them out and cracking his neck with a grunt. He decided that his soaked shirt was more of a hinderance than anything at this point, and in one swift movement, it was over his head and tossed lazily to the side. “Battle stance,” he said, his voice low. The boy obeyed almost immediately, his legs parting slightly, bending at the knees as he brought his sword up. Lothar’s arms hung casually at his sides, sizing up the boy before him for a moment before crossing to him. “Swing.”

The boy swung slowly, and as he did Lothar ducked slightly out of the way, catching the boy’s arm from the inside as he came back up, using the momentum of the boy’s swing to pull him off balance. The boy was on the ground with a grunt, the sword in Lothar’s hand from where he had caught it on the way down. Tossing the practice sword casually to his left hand, he offered his dominant hand to the boy, helping him up and patting him on the back. 

“Did you all see that clearly?” The recruits nodded, but that didn’t stop Lothar from doing it again, even slower this time, breaking down every movement and explaining how it worked so the recruits could learn. He then let the boys go back to training to practice the new technique, helping them along the way. He didn’t even notice Khadgar sitting on one of the benches in the training area until a guard brought him a goblet of water and his forgotten shirt, which he slung over his shoulder as he walked over to the mage.

“Bookworm,” he called, a smile on his lips. Khadgar visibly jumped, startled out of the parchment he had been poring over. Lothar let himself chuckle a bit as Khadgar snapped the book shut, shoving it in his bag hastily before Lothar could see what he had been working on. Lothar stood next to him, a hand on his hip as he drank deeply from the goblet. A sigh escaped his lips as he downed the last bit and set the empty goblet on the end of the bench. He smiled a bit, draping his drenched shirt across the back of his neck. “What have you got there?”

“Nothing, really,” Khadgar responded quickly, smiling up at his friend. His smile faded a bit as Lothar’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You’re hiding something from me.”

“No, I’m not.”

Lothar shrugged and sat down next to the mage, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes. He could feel the boy’s eyes on him, and he opened one eye slightly, casting a glance down at him. He caught the mage looking away, a blush filling his cheeks. Lothar smirked.

“So, what were you working on just now?” Lothar pressed. 

“It was just some notes on ley lines and how their proximity affects arcane charges,” Khadgar replied, not meeting the commander’s eyes. Lothar rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped.

“You’re a horrible liar, kid.” Lothar could see the color increase on the boy’s cheeks, and he chuckled, resisting the urge to pinch them and settling instead to ruffle his hair. He heard a soft laugh escape Khadgar’s lips as he exhaled, leaning into Lothar’s touch. 

Lothar seized the opportunity before Khadgar had a chance to react. He clapped his hand over the mage’s mouth, pulling the boy firmly against his bare chest, and made a grab for Khadgar’s bag with his free hand. Khadgar kicked wildly, his protests muffled from behind Lothar’s hand as he grabbed at the man’s arm. The mage managed to get a hold on his wrist just as Lothar had grabbed the strap of his bag. Neither of them moved, and Lothar could feel the boy’s heavy breathing against his hand. The commander regarded him with a slight nod as he bit his lip.

“It seems we’ve reached an impasse, spell-chucker.” 

Whatever Khadgar had begun to say was absorbed into the man’s hand, and he squirmed slightly under his grip. Of course Lothar could have easily freed his arm from the mage’s grasp; he was stronger and they both knew it, especially with Khadgar unable to cast any spells. It was quite possible that ‘impasse’ was the least appropriate word to describe the situation, but Lothar released the boy nonetheless, suddenly aware that the few straggling recruits in the training grounds were staring. He handed the bag back to Khadgar, who practically snatched it from him, his face visibly turning redder.

Lothar let a chuckle escape his lips. “You’re blushing like a maid again,” he teased. “I didn’t expect you to get so excited, bookworm,” he said, practically growling the word excited. Khadgar was gone with a swish of his cloak, but Lothar could see the tips of his ears practically glowing crimson as he walked away. 

 

********

Lothar ran a hand through his damp hair absentmindedly, keeping it out of his face so the wet strands wouldn’t stick to his skin. He had taken care to wash the day’s sweat and grime away before leaving the Keep to visit his bookworm. A warm evening breeze had replaced the suffocating heat of the day, and it caressed his cheeks as he strolled through the streets of Stormwind. He knew the path by heart by now, allowing his mind to mull over the events of the day. Khadgar had left the training grounds in what seemed like genuine embarrassment; that hadn’t been Lothar’s intention, of course, but now he couldn’t help but worry that he’d gone too far. Even as he approached the mage’s door, the worry that Khadgar would be upset tugged at the back of his mind. Lothar turned the doorknob without knocking; he was here frequently enough that neither of them felt it necessary that he knock. 

He found the living room and kitchen empty when he entered. “Hey, kid?” he called. No response. He crossed the small apartment to where the door to the bedroom stood ajar. His knuckles tapped gently against the wood frame of the door. “Bookworm?”

The mage sat cross-legged on the bed, a book on his knee as his quill deftly scrawled across the parchment. His eyes never left the paper, but he smiled as he greeted his friend; “Hello, Anduin.” Lothar sighed, the smile on Khadgar’s face enough to convince him that he wasn’t upset. He sauntered into the mage’s room, sitting on the end of the mage’s bed as he usually did when he visited the boy. Khadgar’s quill only stopped for a moment to let the older man’s weight settle on the bed before he was back at it, his quill strokes long and purposeful. 

“What are you drawing?” Lothar inquired, his eyes moving slowly from Khadgar’s face to the parchment on his knee. Something must have registered in Khadgar’s mind, because he gasped suddenly, snatching the parchment away and holding it as far away from Lothar as he could. Lothar raised an eyebrow curiously, staring into the mage’s wide brown eyes. “Khadgar, what are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing, honestly,” the mage breathed, a flush of color rising to his face. Lothar smirked, something dangerous lurking in his eyes. It made Khadgar’s breath catch in his throat.

“Really, spell-chucker,” he said, his voice low, “you’ve been acting suspicious for days now. You’re clearly hiding something. Now, you can tell me what you’ve been drawing, or I can take it from you.”

“You won’t,” Khadgar said, the words slipping out of his mouth almost on their own, and he instantly regretted it.

They stared at each other, hardly daring to breathe as anticipation hung in the air. Lothar nodded slowly, his eyes stormy. “Fine.” Khadgar barely had time to register the man’s movement before Lothar was on top of him, knocking him onto his back and grabbing his arms, pinning him down firmly. The paper fluttered in his hand, which hung over the edge of the bed. Lothar raised his eyebrows and smirked triumphantly at the mage beneath him. Much to his surprise, the mage returned his smile, mischief glittering in his eyes despite his breathlessness and the color rising in his cheeks.

“Take it, then,” Khadgar challenged, and the predicament was suddenly clear to Lothar: both his hands were occupied. Lothar bit his lip, his eyes darting to the parchment, which suddenly seemed miles away. He felt color bubble up to his own cheeks as an idea crossed his mind. He looked back at Khadgar, searching his face intently. Khadgar’s eyes were locked on him, anticipation more than apparent in them. Lothar felt his breath catch in his chest, but he wasn’t about to back down. He shifted his weight, bringing his knees up to rest on Khadgar’s arms, keeping him pinned as the bulk of his weight pressed on the mage’s stomach. He removed his hands slowly, waving them about a bit with a look of mock surprise on his face. Khadgar’s eyes narrowed.

Lothar kept his eyes locked with Khadgar’s as he plucked the parchment from the mage’s hand. “Anduin, I can explain,” he started, but Lothar’s free hand was covering his mouth before he had the chance. 

“You talk too much,” Lothar mumbled, his eyes falling to the paper in his hand. He raised an eyebrow, and he could feel the color rushing to his own cheeks. He could see the mage’s eyebrows shoot up from the periphery of his vision, but his eyes were transfixed on the paper before him.

“Khadgar,” he said, his voice low enough to send shivers down the boy’s spine, “ _what the hell is this?_ ”


	2. Model

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Think you might need to get closer, artist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I couldn't wait to post the second chapter. I finished it, might as well let you guys read it, right? I am very weak.
> 
> Also, this is my first attempt at this kind of thing. Please let me know what you think!

Khadgar’s response was muffled by Lothar’s hand, which the commander clearly had no intention of moving. Lothar’s eyes traced every quill-stroke, absorbing every inch of the parchment as he stared at the sketch: on the parchment was his own naked likeness, every feature sketched out in acute detail from his head to his waist. Every muscle, every scar; even his eyes seemed to stare back at him in alarming similarity. 

His eyes shifted to the mage beneath him, and Khadgar felt his breath catch in his throat. He squirmed almost instinctively against Lothar’s grasp as Lothar’s icy blue eyes bored into him. 

“Is this me?”

Khadgar nodded slowly. 

“All this time you’ve been hiding sketches… have you been drawing me?”

Khadgar nodded again.

Lothar’s eyes moved back to the drawing, examining it as he bit at his lower lip. “You’re quite the artist, spell-chucker.” He regarded the mage beneath him with a smirk, and Khadgar felt relief rush into him like a river. _Thank the Light, he isn’t mad_.

Lothar leaned back and took the drawing in both hands as he examined it, releasing his grip on the mage’s mouth.

“Anduin, I’m sorry, I should have asked permission or something, but when I get an idea for a sketch I just have to draw it, and--”

“I know,” Lothar interrupted. “I’ve seen you get an idea before. The inspiration is practically visible on your face. It’s really quite attractive,” he added with a mischievous grin as he glanced down at the mage. Khadgar’s heart fluttered in his chest. 

Lothar’s eyes traced Khadgar’s parted lips as his smile widened, an idea blooming in his head. “Tell you what, kid,” he said, “if you ever need practice, come find me. I’ll model for you.”

Khadgar was silent for a moment. “You… wait, what?”

“I’ll model for you,” Lothar repeated, leaning in closer to Khadgar’s face. He heard the mage’s breathing quicken, and he smiled dangerously. “Does that sound like a good idea to you?”

Khadgar merely nodded, afraid that any words that came out of his mouth would be completely unintelligible. Lothar smiled, satisfied.

“Good,” he said with a nod. He hoisted himself up off the younger man, his knees brushing Khadgar’s sides as he did. “Get some rest; I’ll stop by tomorrow, if you don’t have other plans?” Khadgar shook his head in response. Lothar smiled. “Good.”

He left Khadgar’s apartment with a warm feeling in his chest that he hadn’t felt for a very long time. 

********

Lothar had no idea what to wear.

He never put any thought into picking outfits; he always wore his military leathers, plate, or simple linens. What does one wear to model for… what was Khadgar to him? 

Khadgar was certainly his friend, and a good one at that. Still, that feeling he had last night lingered in him, that warmth that spread through him like he had been drinking. He absentmindedly let his hand fall to his chest, leaving goosebumps where the warmth had been the previous night. How did he really feel about that damn spell-chucker?

He shook his head slightly, clearing his mind as he focused on the task at hand. He grabbed a soft linen shirt from his closet and tossed it on before setting out into the heat of the day.

********

“Bookworm?” He sauntered into Khadgar’s apartment like he owned the place. He found the mage standing over the sink, shucking some fresh corn. Lothar stopped, entranced by the boy’s movements as he ran his hand down the length of the corn, gently pulling back the husk. He twisted it slightly in his hands, pulling away the silk as his fingers danced along the kernels. Lothar felt his breath catch in his chest as Khadgar took the cob in both hands, and in one swift motion ran his hand down to the stalk, which he grabbed firmly.

He broke the stalk off with a sickening _crack_. 

Khadgar turned, startled, as Lothar coughed madly, choking on air.

“Anduin, are you alright? When did you come in?” he asked casually. He grabbed a towel, drying his hands swiftly before reaching for a pitcher of water. He poured some into a glass and handed it to Lothar before crossing to the table in his small kitchen, gesturing for the commander to sit. Lothar downed the glass before he even realized it had touched his lips, and he let out a sigh as he set the glass down and took a seat across the table from Khadgar. 

“I’m fine, I’m alright,” he said as he caught his breath. “So,” he began, though he didn’t have any words to follow it up, so he just smiled across the table at the mage. Khadgar chuckled.

“So,” the mage continued, “let’s get started. Do you want anything to eat first?” Lothar shook his head in response. Khadgar smiled, inspiration dancing in his eyes. He reached for his sketchbook, not taking his eyes off of Lothar. His focused gaze made Lothar’s heart flutter in his chest.

“Hold still,” the mage commanded. With the sudden forcefulness in Khadgar’s voice, Lothar was glad the lower half of his body was under the table, out of sight. Khadgar dipped his quill into the inkwell, tapping it on the side slightly to shake off the excess ink. 

‘When did I become such a damn child?’ Lothar thought to himself as he watched the boy begin to draw. ‘I’m a grown man; I shouldn’t be feeling this way at all, let alone about some damn mage boy.’ He felt his breath catch in his chest despite himself as Khadgar leaned in, his brown eyes bright with focus as he examined Lothar’s exposed neck and collarbone. 

“Need a closer look?”

The words slipped out of Lothar’s mouth before he realized it, a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips of its own accord. Khadgar looked up at him, clearly startled out of his work by the sudden breaking of the silence that had been hanging between them. 

Khadgar nodded slowly, something more than focus in his eyes as he stood, crossing to Lothar. He stood above him, close enough to feel the man’s breath on his chest through his thin linen shirt. He reached out, his fingertips dancing like feathers across Lothar’s collarbone. He smiled and bit his lip when he saw that he had left goosebumps on the commander’s skin. “Close enough?” he teased, his voice low. 

Lothar’s eyebrows arched up, his blue eyes crackling like lightning in a summer storm. His tongue slipped out to moisten his lips, sending a shiver up Khadgar’s spine as the commander shook his head. “Think you might need to get closer, _artist_.” 

A low chuckle escaped Khadgar’s lips as he obliged, resting his knee on the chair between Lothar’s legs. He pushed his hand into Lothar’s chest, fingers pressing into his collarbone. He nodded, biting at his lower lip as he absorbed every inch of Lothar’s skin, examining it with that intense focus that made Lothar’s heart pound. His hand slid down slowly, fingers tugging softly at the collar of Lothar’s linen shirt. “This is obstructing my research.”

Lothar moved to remove the fabric, but Khadgar was faster, his free hand reaching up under Lothar’s shirt, fingers brushing his abdomen gently enough to send shivers up and down the man’s spine. The mage lingered, tracing the hard muscles of Lothar’s stomach, memorizing every inch with his touch. Khadgar’s hands suddenly grasped the fabric, tearing it in two with a strength Lothar wouldn’t have expected. In one swift movement, Khadgar twisted the fabric, wrapped it around his arms, and tied a firm knot behind the chair, pinning Lothar’s arms behind his back. He smiled devilishly down at Lothar, who stared up at him with almost desperate desire in his eyes as he pulled against the bonds. Laughter slipped from Khadgar’s lips as he brought both hands to rest on Lothar’s exposed chest, shifting his weight to settle on the man’s lap. 

His voice was low as he spoke, his hands running down the man’s bare torso as he dug his fingernails softly into his flesh; “You don’t really think you’re going anywhere, do you?” Lothar opened his mouth to reply, but Khadgar’s hand gently caressing his cheek stopped the words in his throat. The mage leaned in, his lips brushing against Lothar’s ear as he murmured, “I haven’t finished my research yet.” He let his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of Lothar’s neck before he pulled away, standing suddenly and crossing back to his sketch in two short steps. 

He plopped back down in his chair, staring at Lothar with a self-satisfied smirk. The quill was back in his hand, tracing quick but steady lines on the page and filling the silence between them with the sound of scratching parchment. He bit at his lower lip as he worked. It was a while before Lothar found his voice again.

“Dammit, Khadgar, you can’t just--”

“Be quiet, won’t you?” Khadgar asked innocently. “Don’t distract me.”

“Khadgar--”

The mage clicked his tongue. “Am I going to have to shut you up myself?”

Lothar fell silent once more as he fought against the fabric binding him, eyes locked on Khadgar as the mage continued to work. How that blasted kid had torn through the shirt with such ease before was beyond him. Truth be told, however, he couldn’t bring himself to care that the shirt was ruined; no, this was well worth it. He glanced down at his own bare chest, a single bead of sweat gliding over his toned muscles, tracing his scars. He knew Khadgar would be sketching every inch of it, every minute detail captured by his careful quill-strokes. His arms strained against their bonds, and his hands grasped helplessly at the air around them as he tried and failed to find something to grab onto, something to pull himself free. 

He was vaguely aware that the sound of quill on parchment had stopped, and he looked up to find that Khadgar’s eyes were locked on his face, boring into him. His breath caught in his throat as those brown eyes drank him in, a smile pulling at the mage’s lips as he bit them. A sudden sense of helplessness rushed over him, a sudden awareness that Khadgar was in complete control. It made his heart pound and his stomach tighten, though he wasn’t sure nervousness was the cause of it. He wondered if this was how Khadgar felt when Lothar had him pinned down yesterday. It occurred to him that he hoped that was the case. He struggled absentmindedly against his bonds as Khadgar rested his elbow on the table and ran his thumb along his bottom lip, studying the commander who was at his mercy just across the table. 

“I’m done with my sketch,” Khadgar stated matter-of-factly. He held the paper up for Lothar to see. Lothar smirked despite himself.

“It’s good,” he said. His muscles relaxed, eliciting a soft laugh from Khadgar.

“You don’t think you’re off the hook, do you?” Khadgar smiled wickedly, an eyebrow raised incredulously. “I don’t think I’m done with you just yet, commander.” He stood slowly, and Lothar could feel his heart pound once more as Khadgar crossed to him. The mage’s fingers ran through his long hair, grabbing it gently as he pulled Lothar’s head back. He caressed Lothar’s exposed neck with the back of his free hand before he bent over, pressing his plump lips into the man’s skin where his fingers had left goosebumps moments before. He felt Lothar shudder, and he laughed in his throat as his mouth opened, his tongue slipping out to tease Lothar’s neck. Lothar gasped when he felt the mage’s teeth on his skin, and he couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped his lips as Khadgar began to work at the spot, gently biting into Lothar’s skin, sucking forcefully enough to leave a mark as his tongue soothed the impressions left by his teeth. He could feel Khadgar smile against his neck just before the boy pulled away, a bruise blossoming under the skin he had been so diligently working at. He traced it with his finger, sending shivers down Lothar’s spine. 

“There,” he said as he pressed his forehead against Lothar’s, “now all of Stormwind knows you’re mine.” He laughed again, a mirthful sound that danced in Lothar’s ears. “I never thought you’d give in so easily, _commander_ … or enjoy it so much.”

“You didn’t give me much of an option, did you, spell-chucker?” Lothar panted. Khadgar lifted his head slightly, gazing down into Lothar’s eyes as a pout pulled at his lips.

“You didn’t enjoy it then?”

Lothar laughed then, a low, rumbling laugh in his throat. “I didn’t say that.” His smile was smothered as Khadgar pressed their lips together.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Khadgar breathed as he pulled away. Lothar smiled.

“You’ve never done anything like this before, have you, bookworm?” Lothar asked. Khadgar shook his head. “As I thought. Let me go, then.”

Khadgar straightened, huffing a bit as an incredulous smile spread across his face. “Now, why would I do that?”

Lothar returned his smirk, his eyes crackling with mischief. “Because,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl, “I’m going to teach you how to do this _properly._ ” 

The moment Lothar felt the fabric slacken against his skin, he grabbed Khadgar’s shoulders, tackling him to the ground. He pinned Khadgar’s wrists above his head with one hand, leaving the other free to explore. He ran his hand down Khadgar’s soft skin, touching every inch of his chest and torso before moving down, resting his hand on his thigh and squeezing gently, eliciting a moan from the younger man beneath him. Lothar laughed again as a blush rose to the mage’s cheeks. “I haven’t even started yet, and you’re already moaning?”

Khadgar squirmed slightly under Lothar’s strong grip. His eyes were filled with anticipation as he searched Lothar’s face and found all the desire he himself felt reflected in the man’s eyes.

Despite all his years of studying, Khadgar felt that he never had a more informative lesson than the one Lothar taught him that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading! Please feel free to leave constructive criticism, or shoot me a prompt on my tumblr: ocarinaenthusiast.tumblr.com


	3. Painter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me paint you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've posted anything. This has been in the works for a solid two weeks at least, along with the pile of other works-in-progress that I have stashed on my computer. Those will hopefully be coming out soon. 
> 
> Anyway, I got an idea to follow up the original concept for _Artist_ , so I started rolling with it, and this is what happened. This is the first fic I wrote without an outline at the suggestion of my creative writing professor, who doesn't know I took his advice to write fan fiction. Sorry about that, Professor.

“Let me paint you.”

Lothar glanced up at Khadgar from where he sat polishing his sword, eyebrow cocked inquisitively. “Go ahead. You never bothered to ask before; you know I don’t mind.”

“No,” Khadgar corrected, “Let me paint _on_ you. Be my canvas.”

Both of Lothar’s eyebrows perked up at the statement as a low chuckle escaped his lips. “Oh, I see. Right now?”

“Take off your shirt.”

Lothar chuckled again, the sound low and rich in his throat. “Demanding, are we?”

Khadgar huffed at him in exasperation, paint already in his hands. “You know that when I get an idea--”

“You have to paint it right away, I know,” Lothar finished with a devilish smirk, setting his sword down on the table. He stood slowly, grunting only slightly as he hoisted himself from the low bench. He stretched his back as he pulled his shirt slowly over his head, tossing it onto the table by his sword as he carded a hand through his long hair. He smirked again, knowing the dark intensity in Khadgar’s eyes wasn’t caused solely by inspiration as they ran over Lothar’s toned figure. 

Khadgar’s tongue darted over his pink lips as he nodded. “Alright, lay down on the bed.” 

“Yes, _my lord_ ,” Lothar replied with a sarcastic bow. Khadgar rolled his eyes as the commander crossed the small apartment in a few long strides, laying down on his back as directed. He closed his eyes, letting himself relax as he took a deep breath. He heard Khadgar’s soft footsteps on the wood floor, and he opened his eyes to find the mage standing above him with a tray of paints.

Khadgar smiled as he bit his lip. He rested a knee by Lothar’s hip, hoisting himself onto the bed and straddling Lothar’s waist. He set the tray on the bed, dark eyes running over Lothar’s body once more. He dipped his middle finger in a cerulean blue paint. Inspiration and passion blazed like fire in his hazel eyes as he gazed into Lothar’s. 

“Your eyes are gorgeous,” the mage murmured, “Like arcane magic. There’s so much in them; I feel myself getting swept away in them every time I look at you.” 

Lothar chuckled, but he felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and he remained silent at the risk of saying something completely unintelligent. Khadgar’s eyes fell to the commander’s chest as he placed his paint-covered finger on his canvas, just under the man’s collarbone. Slowly, gently, but purposefully nonetheless, the mage dragged his finger over Lothar’s tan skin, and Lothar could feel the delicate but deliberate skill in those hands that were well-attuned to tracing beautiful runes.

“Arcane magic knits our world together,” Khadgar told him, the rhythm of his words guiding the long, mesmerizing strokes of his fingers. He paused for a moment as he reached for the paint, dipping his finger once more before returning to his commander. “Back when the Titans forged the planet, they used arcane magic to bring order to the world.”

The mage’s fingers made their way over Lothar’s body in smooth, sweeping strokes as he worked from Lothar’s chest, out to his arms, tracing their way along his muscles and veins. “Arcane magic is like the blood of Azeroth, running through ley lines that trace their way all over the planet like veins.” He stopped at Lothar’s hands, leaving lovely swirls of blue that danced over the man’s skin. He dipped his finger in the paint again, his eyes never leaving the man beneath him. “In a lot of ways, the planet itself is alive,” he said softly, beginning a beautiful pattern over Lothar’s heart.

“I didn’t think I’d be getting a magic lesson,” Lothar teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Khadgar’s eyebrows raised incredulously as his eyes met Lothar’s once more. He sat back slightly, pulling his hand back from Lothar’s chest. 

“You want me to stop?” Khadgar asked dryly. 

Lothar licked his lips and shook his head slightly. “No, no. Please, continue, _professor_.”

A blush rose to Khadgar’s cheeks, eliciting a hearty laugh from the commander beneath him. Khadgar took a deep breath, shaking his head slightly before dipping his finger back into the arcane blue paint. 

“I have a theory,” he told Lothar, fingers returning to work on Lothar’s torso. “It’s a truth of our world that matter cannot be created or destroyed--”

“Don’t you conjure things all the time, spellchuck--”

Khadgar pressed his free hand over Lothar’s mouth, muffling the words. He leaned in close to the man’s face. “Would you let me _finish_? I’m trying to work.”

Lothar’s icy eyes gazed up at Khadgar as the mage returned to work, dipping his middle finger in a lavender paint. “Anyway, conjuring isn’t _creating_ matter; it’s simply changing the physical structure of the existing matter to be something else. So, as a mage, you take the air or water vapor and change the structure to that of something else, like food or whatever else you may need,” he explained as he accented the blue lines on Anduin’s skin with the lavender swirls and dots. 

“So, as I was saying,” he continued, “Matter cannot be created or destroyed. So, therefore, the matter that composes each and every being must have been around since the creation of Azeroth.” Lothar cocked an eyebrow at him beneath the mage’s hand, and Khadgar chuckled slightly. “I was just thinking: what if the matter that comprises two different people once comprised the same thing at some point in time?” He smiled, hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. “Would that make those two people soulmates?”

Lothar huffed and rolled his eyes in response, eliciting another bright laugh from the boy. “It’s just a theory,” he said lightly, paint-covered finger swirling around the toned muscles of Lothar’s stomach. “I thought you might like to hear it.”

Lothar reached up and grasped Khadgar’s wrist, moving the mage’s hand from his mouth. “Of course. I like hearing all your theories, spellchucker.”

“Then why do you keep interrupting me?” Khadgar shot back, the smile on his face seeping into the playful tone of his voice. 

In one swift movement, Lothar flipped them over so he was straddling Khadgar’s waist. He pressed Khadgar’s wrists into the bed, and one of the mage’s hands smeared the paints on the tray by his head. “Talk is only entertaining for so long,” the commander growled, eyes alight as he stared down at the mage beneath him. 

“I’m not finished yet,” Khadgar pouted, lips parted just enough to make Lothar’s pulse quicken. “And you messed up all my paints.”

Lothar smirked before leaning closer to the mage’s face, pressing their bodies closer together. “Did I?” he challenged, reaching a hand up to dip his finger in the swirling colors that had smudged across Khadgar’s hand. “I think I’ve made it better, really. Isn’t that what you artists do? Mix colors to make new, beautiful colors?”

Khadgar’s reply was cut short as Lothar ran his paint-stained finger down Khadgar’s round cheek, the mix of colors dancing out beneath his touch in beautiful, spontaneous patterns. Lothar’s smile broadened as he pulled his hand back, studying his handiwork. 

“See? That’s lovely. Absolutely stunning. I see why you artists like this kind of thing.”

“What, painting?”

“Painting on you,” Lothar corrected with a devilish grin. 

“It is rather nice,” Khadgar agreed. “Being painted on, that is.”

“You sure you don’t just want an excuse for me to be on top of you?”

“As if I needed to give you another reason to do that,” Khadgar teased. Lothar raised an eyebrow with an incredulous snort. Eyes piercing Khadgar in a way that took the boy’s breath away, the commander ran his finger over Khadgar’s lower lip, leaving blue and purple streaks on Khadgar’s pink, plush lips. 

“I think I might need to do something about that mouth of yours one of these days, mage boy,” Lothar chuckled, pushing his finger hard against Khadgar’s lips. “You talk too much.”

“You say I talk too much too much,” came the muffled reply. 

Lothar reached up to grip Khadgar’s wrists with both hands, leaving smears of paint beneath his already color-coated hand. He leaned in closer, so close that his nose nearly touched Khadgar’s. “I just think there are better things you could be doing with that mouth, that’s all,” he growled, tongue darting out to tease Khadgar’s parted lips. A giggle bubbled up from the mage as he arched his back slightly, pushing his hips up into the man above him.

“Is something funny to you?” Lothar asked, nipping playfully at Khadgar’s lower lip to elicit another bright giggle from the boy. 

Whatever Khadgar was about to say was lost between them as Lothar pressed their open mouths together, relishing the moan that rose from the mage’s throat. He chuckled when he pulled away, noticing all too well the way Khadgar rose to catch his lips. 

“You can paint with your lips, you know,” the commander murmured. “You don’t even need paint.”

“Oh?” Khadgar asked breathlessly. “And how might you accomplish that, Commander?”

Lothar chuckled again, low and deep in his throat as he moved to Khadgar’s jawline, running his lips over the stubbles of Khadgar’s chin. The gasp that arose from the mage when Lothar bit his skin made his head spin, and he bit harder, tongue swirling between his teeth to tease Khadgar’s quickly bruising flesh. He planted a light kiss on the spot he had been working before moving down slowly, letting his lips and tongue and teeth dance across Khadgar’s soft skin as he made his way to the mage’s neck.

He moved along Khadgar’s body slowly and methodically, taking his time painting the mage’s skin with his lips and teeth and tongue. Every moan brought a fresh wave of thrill, and every laugh brought a new vigor to Lothar’s art as he worked at the pale skin of the mage’s neck and chest. He gripped Khadgar’s wrists harder, keeping the boy pinned firmly beneath him as he worked out towards his arms, leaving bruises and bitemarks on the soft flesh he found there. He pressed his torso against the man beneath him as his lips reached Khadgar’s wrists. He kissed the back of his own hand before sliding it down so his lips could brush against the skin above Khadgar’s vein. He bit gently, not wanting to draw blood, but he bit nonetheless, nipping just enough to paint pink and purple bruises that danced across the boy’s skin like a saturated sunset dancing across the twilight sky. 

“Quite an art style you have there, Commander,” Khadgar laughed breathlessly as Lothar pulled back to admire his work. 

“I wish you could see yourself,” Lothar murmured. “You’re beautiful. Every inch of you. You’re mine and you’re so beautiful.”

“Is that with or without your _artwork_?” Khadgar asked with a cheeky grin beneath his flushed cheeks. Lothar stared at him for a moment before, without warning, diving into Khadgar’s soft shoulder, biting vigorously as Khadgar gasped beneath him.

“Both,” Lothar breathed into Khadgar’s neck, “But you’re the most beautiful when you’re like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you guys very much for reading and bearing with me while I get my life together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much for reading! Please feel free to leave constructive criticism, or shoot me a prompt on my tumblr: ocarinaenthusiast.tumblr.com


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